Somewhere along the line, I’d developed a disdain for crying. Weeping was a sign of weakness. Tears displayed a hole in your armor, a flaw or defect in your character. Crying was for sissies. 

Growing up, my brother Bruce had the reputation as being the cry baby of our family. I felt sorry for him. He was a boy and boys weren’t supposed to cry. Or were they?

Compassion

Seeing Bruce’s tears and the ridicule he endured from my siblings had a way of hardening my heart. Perhaps I overcompensated and took on the persona of toughness for both my brother and myself. 

If I felt a lump in my throat, I’d swallow it. Anytime I felt vulnerable, I’d ignored those feelings. Crying, I told myself, solved nothing and only wasted your energy. 

Looking back though, Bruce’s tears were actually a good sign. Like a canary in a coal mine that warned miners of the presence of poisonous gasses, my brother’s tears were a sign of tenderness. His crying indicated a compassion for others that he did not know he possessed. His sensitivity to the feelings of others and his inability to  ignore how he felt later led him to realizing his calling; he was meant to be a pastor. 

I’ve since learned from my brother how crying can actually be good for you. The struggles he’s experienced in his life have taught me that no one can live squeaky clean, antiseptic, and sanitized emotionless lives and be alive. Instead, to live honestly we have to acknowledge that  our emotions are messy, impure, and at times even toxic. This realization is what causes us to weep, sob, and blubber. Whether we do it privately or in the arms of a friend doesn’t matter. Lamenting leads to enlightenment. 

If I don’t recognize my sorrow, what then causes me to miss joy? If I am not fearful in the dark, why would I move toward the light? If I do not recognize that I am drowning, then why would I accept anyone’s rescue attempt? 

As a youngster, my brother was quite wise. Even though he could not tell me as a child that our emotions are part of our human experience, as an adult, he now has the words to speak with wisdom. Not only does he have the words, he’s given me empathy, the gift that only comes when we acknowledge our own pain. 

Why bother crying? Crying is simply a sign of our tender and compassionate hearts. And that is nothing to be ashamed of.